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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615104">MSCTS - an unconvential team</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeV/pseuds/CallMeV'>CallMeV</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Musketeers (2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Agent AU, Agents, Army Porthos, Military, Psychologist Athos, Sniper - Freeform, Special Unit, Technician d'Artagnan, sharpshooter, sniper!Aramis, technician</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:40:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,804</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeV/pseuds/CallMeV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Treville needs a new Team for his so called "Musketeers" unit. Only the best trained agents find their way towards him.<br/>So he ends up putting a sniper, a technician, an ex-GIGN and an profiler aka psychologist together.<br/>They couldn’t have been more different. Or more trouble.</p><p> </p><p>So this one is my first "Agent AU" for the Musketeers.<br/>It's more small drabbles than a complete story. I've just came up with this idea today and wanted to write anything, so let's see where this Au takes us....</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part 1.1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They were a weird team. It’s at least what Constance and most of the unit thought.<br/>
It’s not that they were weird in person – okay maybe a little, but who was not?<br/>
It was the constellation that was weird. She wondered how Treville had come up with this idea and why for heavens sake he would go for it. Probably because it wasn’t Treville who had to deal with this ‘Team’ (as long as they didn’t cause too much trouble) but her. Constance sighed as her eyes roamed over the desktop on her cleanly organized desk. She clicked through the files, consuming each information she could get a hold on – but there wasn’t that much in the agent’s files. Most of it had been blacked out or never been filled in. All she got were some names and dates, pictures and a few case files. She read through them too, still searching for the reason why Treville would put these four men together. Of course, they all had quite a reputation, lots of experience – but she didn’t feel like they would fit together. She had never seen these men hang out together. She had barely seen these agents ever. Most agents of the ‘Unit for Military, Screening, Confrontation, Terrorism and Security’ – short MSCTS or so called Musketeers-, the unit she was working for, were lingering around the office quite often when they weren’t on a mission. But these men she had barely seen a few times. Not that she had looked out for them before.<br/>
The reason why the Musketeer were such a effective unit was partly because of their extraordinary skills but also because of their comradeship. They were more a family than colleagues.<br/>
She had read that this Porthos (what a weird name, wasn’t it?) guy just as well as Charles had come to the unit only weeks ago – so that would explain why she hadn’t noticed them yet. But Athos and Aramis were supposed to be with the unit for months in the first case and almost 2 years in the second case.<br/>
A sniper, a technician, an ex-GIGN and an profiler aka psychologist. They couldn’t have been more different.<br/>
Of course Constance saw the sense in putting agents of different fields into a team, but after she had seen them yesterday, being greeted by Treville and shown around, she wasn’t sure if it would work out this time. The men had barely talked to each other, let alone looked at one another.<br/>
How was a team supposed to work were the participants didn’t communicate?<br/>
“Well, this will be fun.” She muttered, closing the files and walked into the next room. The soon to be bureau of the team she was supposed to control and help. She made sure that the room was well-aired, the desks clean and well-organized and the computer ready for lock-in. A glance towards the clock above the door told her that the agents should arrive any minute.<br/>
Mvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmv<br/>
“Can’t you just stay quiet? God damned!”<br/>
“I can concentrate better when I hum! You’ve got a problem?”</p><p>“Yes and I’ve told it to you at least four times by now!”</p><p>“Would you keep your things on your own desk?!”</p><p>“But it’s too small!”</p><p>“Mine’s just as big and I have no problem to keep it tidy! How do you even make such a mess in three hours?!”</p><p>“I work. In contrast to someone else in as here.”</p><p>Constance groaned as something heavy collided with the wall behind her, which separated her bureau from the one of the team. She had hoped that the agents would get bored by discussing all day, but apparently they didn’t.<br/>
She pushed against the table to make enough space for her to stand up before walking towards the door with fast steps, ripping it open without bothering to knock.<br/>
Immediately the discussions ended and eight eyes were fixed on her. Constance even thought to have seen on or two hands twitch towards their weapons. </p><p>“I thought you were high-ranked, experienced agents – and most importantly: adults.” She let her icy gaze linger on each agent for a few seconds, but finding nothing than indifferent masks on three faces. Only the boy, Charles, flinched a little because of her accusing eyes and hurriedly turned back to his three desktops, as if he had anything important to look at.<br/>
“I don’t know what Treville has seen in you four, but until today he had never had a , bad hand at picking his teams. Don’t make him regret his choice now. I don’t know what your problems are – there are quite many apparently – but I don’t want to hear about them anytime soon again!”<br/>
René, the good-looking sniper who had been with the Musketeers for almost two years, arched his eyebrow at her, an amused spark glistening in his eyes. But he seemed intelligent enough to not say something. Instead he grabbed some of the papers that were scattered over his desk and threw them over onto Charles’ desk. The boy shot him any angry look, but with Constance still standing close by, he didn’t argue. Instead he put the papers neatly together and searched for a place to put them on his overloaded, chaotic desk. René seemed pleased with the development, stroked over his desk in a gesture to swipe away some dust and looked at his now perfectly clean and neat desk. Constance followed the hand which had swiped away the imaginary dust to the four pencils placed in a row by the foot of the desktop. Carefully, René rearranged the third pencil who had laid a little out of the row, so that all four pencil-tips were at exactly the seemed height.<br/>
Olivier, who had followed the snipers movement with almost as much interest as Constance had muttered something under his breath before glancing back to her. Waiting.<br/>
Waiting for what? She wondered silently, taking another look around the room.<br/>
It was silent for once. Just then she noticed that the agents hadn’t returned to their work yet, instead they were still looking at her, wondering if she had more to say.<br/>
She turned around, taking the door handle into her hand, but before she left she decided to add something more.<br/>
“Don’t force me to plead to Treville to be assigned to a new Team.”<br/>
With that, she left the room and sat back down on her desk.<br/>
She smiled to herself as there was nothing but silence in the following hours.</p><p>Mvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvmvm</p><p>Porthos leant against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest and whistles leaving his lips as he waited. He hated waiting. Almost as much as paperwork. He was a man of action. Not one made to stand around for hours, observing, waiting. He almost missed the action of his old day with the Groupe d'Intervention de la Gendarmerie Nationale (National Gendarmerie Intervention Group). On the other hand he was glad to know that he would never have to be confined on a ship for months again.<br/>
“You know we can hear you?” He heard a annoyed, dry voice through the earpiece. He grinned smugly, whistling a little louder without giving Olivier an answer.<br/>
“It’s annoying.” Olivier then added, as if his comment hadn’t been clear enough. Porthos didn’t even think about stopping.<br/>
He kept whistling while his eyes kept roaming over the houses on the other side of the street, searching for something, anything. He had observed the buildings for so many hours now, that he thought he knew every stone and spot on the walls.<br/>
He only stopped his whistling as there was short, rustling sound on his ear, indicating that someone had turned on his microphone.<br/>
It was René’s steady voice that echoed through the earpiece. “Three men at the south-entrance, entering in 5 seconds. Four men with heavy cargo at the western doors. There’s a car coming out of the underground car park. Darkened windows. No way to tell how many men.”<br/>
Porthos eyes’ shot towards the south-entrance, conforming Rene’s statement. He hadn’t a clear view towards the western entrance or the exit of the car park.<br/>
“Have the three men.” He answered, his hand pulling out the weapon out of his belt as he walked over the street as inconspicuous as possible. He was glad for the sweater he wore, he could hide the weapon in it’s sleeve without a problem.<br/>
“Western Entrance in sight. The men are heavily armed. Can’t take them on my own.” Olivier spoke.<br/>
“I’ve got a clear shot on both entrances. No worry.” René assured. Porthos frowned. He didn’t think that René would be able to protect both him and Olivier once it came to a fight – for that he was just a bit too far away.<br/>
“I’ve got the car.” It was Charles’ out of breath voice that surprised him the most. The reason for it showed seconds later as a black-clothed figure, apparently Charles, came running from the other side of the building – vanishing in an dark alley.<br/>
“What’ve you done?” Porthos asked with a frown. He didn’t like this. Working with men he barely knew, not knowing what was going on in their heads.<br/>
“GPS Tracker and a small TNT bomb under the car.” Charles explained, his breath coming slower now. “Just in case.”<br/>
“They’re carrying the cargo in now. If you want to strike I would do it now while they’ve got their hands full.”<br/>
“Got it.” Olivier answered, then there was only rustling on Porthos earpiece, shouts, and then shots. He wouldn’t have needed the earpiece to here the shots. As the three men he had observed heard them too, pulling out their weapons as well and got ready to run towards Athos and the other four criminals, Porthos made his move. He shot into the air, gaining their attention.<br/>
Mvmvmvmvmvmvmvmv<br/>
René cursed in spanish and French at once as everything broke out into chaos.<br/>
Olivier had charged into the four men, two of them unconscious or dead now, two having managed to pull out their weapons, shooting at back at him.<br/>
Porthos had engaged with the remaining three men, currently hiding behind a wall and exchanging curses and shots with them.<br/>
Both, Olivier and Porthos were too concerned with their own fights to notice the men jumping out of the car.<br/>
“Charles. Now!” René hissed as the men aimed at Olivier.<br/>
René didn’t want to lay Olivier’s life in the hands of the technician boy. But what other choice did he have?<br/>
If he concentrated on the men by the car, he could not save Porthos, who was currently struggling to keep his opponents at bay.<br/>
So he turned his attention away from the car and aiming at one of the two men shooting at Porthos.<br/>
And then there was an explosion, fire, heat and then darkness….</p><p>Mvmvmvmvmvmvmvmv</p><p>Charles watched the bomb detonate, ripping everything and everyone close to the car into a thousand pieces that were burned by the flames. With everything close by he meant not only the car and it’s occupants but also the gate through which the criminals wanted to flee with car, the windows from the neighboring house as well a few parts of it’s wall as well as a lantern. The lantern tilted dangerously until it came to a hold on the neighboring house’s roof. The roof of the house where René had been stationed.<br/>
But there was not enough time to worry about the sniper or even look after him. Charles tried once to reach him or the others over their earpieces, but as he had already thought, the connection was gone.<br/>
The place where Olivier and his opponents had been fighting was mostly untouched by the explosion. The disturbance had only put the fight to a short pause but now continued like nothing had happened. Charles noticed how Olivier favoured his left arm, only shooting with one weapon instead of two. He was kneeling behind a lower wall, ducking out from behind it every now and then to fire at his remaining opponents.<br/>
From where he stood, Charles could not see Porthos, but he heard no shots coming from this direction. So either Porthos had everything under control or nothing. Charles chewed on his lip as he thought about what he could do next. With Porthos it was like Schroedingers cat at the moment… but Olivier was clearly still alive and needing help.<br/>
So Charles hoped that he didn’t just speak Porthos’ death sentence and ran towards Olivier’s hiding place, shooting into the vague direction of their opponents at the same time.<br/>
“Are these machine guns?!” He shouted over the sound of raining bullets as he ducked beside Olivier.<br/>
“Yes.” Olivier gritted, his head falling against the wall in a mixture of feelings Charles could not identify clearly. His face was tensed, his teeth gritted – fury? Pain?<br/>
Charles decided to ignore it for the start.<br/>
“You said they would not be prepared for a fight!”<br/>
“I did.” Olivier hissed, now there was definitely fury in his voice. But Charles could not care any less. Olivier was their analyst and profiler, he should have known that these men were indeed more than prepared.<br/>
“Screw you.” Charles muttered before firing back at their opponents, taking one out – leaving only one last man standing.<br/>
“We’ve to take him out fast. Get to Porthos.” He then added, ducking his head deeper as more bullets rained over them. Olivier’s breath was faster than he liked, but the psychologist nodded and composed himself, also firing back.<br/>
“I haven’t noticed any assistance from René since the explosion. He could be in trouble too.”</p><p>Mvmvmvmvmvnvmvmv</p><p>Porthos awoke to a ringing in his ears and a burning sensation in his eyes. He blinked a few times until his view cleared and he found his surroundings in destruction. He turned his head, ignoring the nusea that the movement caused, to find a ripped arm laying only a few feet away from him.<br/>
He gasped at the sight, sitting up fastly. A little too fast apparently. He retched beside him until his world stopped spinning and his throat was raw and dry. Slowly, he then lifted his pounding head and found that all of his opponents were in different states of unconsciousness or death.<br/>
He scrambled to his wobbly feet, using the wall of the building to steady himself, as he walked through the scene of destruction. The man closest to him was the one who had lost the limp and apparently a good part of his skull too. Porthos winced, this could have been him too. Another man was down with a bullet right through the centre of his head and the third was bleeding sluggishly through a wound in his stomach – he was still breathing but no danger to anyone anymore. If he would have got the time Porthos would have secured him nevertheless to take him back for questioning, but the life’s of his colleagues could be still in danger. He heard ots coming from the other side of the building where Olivier had been stationed and decided to take a look.<br/>
Rounding the first corner of the building he found the source of the explosion, the car ripped into smaller burning parts – limbs and bodies scattered around it.<br/>
It took longer than normally for him to reach the other side, his legs wobbly and sight unclear. As Porthos reached the next corner he peeked around it carefully, finding a man hunched behind a door and shooting at something or someone in the distance – probably Olivier.<br/>
Porthos cursed himself as he wanted to grab his pistol and noticed just yet that he must have lost it during the explosion. He looked around, finding a metal pole laying close by. Careful to not make too much noise he grabbed it and tiptoed towards the criminal.<br/>
He swung the pole before the man knew what was coming up at him and shattered his head. The shots stopped and soon two heads poked up behind a low wall.<br/>
Charles was the first to stand up and look around, searching for more opponents who would not come. He then leaned down, grabbed Olivier by one arm and pulled him upright. As Porthos came closer to them he noticed how Olivier’s left arm hang down loosely, bleeding sluggishly.<br/>
“You’re injured.” Porthos exclaimed, pointing at the wound.<br/>
“Oh really? Haven’t noticed.” Olivier hissed and then nodded at Porthos head. “You too.”<br/>
Porthos just shrugged. There was not much he could do about it now. There was still someone missing.<br/>
“Any news from René?” He asked, but the other two shook their heads. Charles then pointed towards the neigh boring building where René had been stationed.</p><p>Mvmvmvmvmvm<br/>
René awoke to too bright light, burning his eyes and forcing him to shut them again. He turned his head to the side, deciding to keep his eyes closed for just a moment longer. Instead of using his sight he tried to make sense of the situation through his other senses. It smelled like smoke and ash, but there was still enough fresh air for him to not be in any danger.<br/>
He was laying on something hard and as he tried to remember or feel what it could be, he slowly started to get a feeling of more of his body. His leg burned and arched, sending a pounding sensation upwards towards his back. The pain that intensified with each second he was conscious caused him to force his eyes back open. He leaned onto his elbow to sit up slightly and get a look at his leg.<br/>
“Merde.” He cursed. A metal pole, a street light according to the lamp on top of the pole, had fallen onto the roof, burying his right leg beneath it.<br/>
Blurred memories of a explosion came back to his mind. He had concentrated on helping Porthos, shooting one of his opponents through the head – then it must have happened. He had not have the time to see the pole falling so focused he had been on his other task.<br/>
He gave his leg an experimental tug, not causing it to move but only to enflame another wave of pain in his body.<br/>
He grunted, letting his head fall back into his neck as he breathed through the sensation.<br/>
“René?!”<br/>
He snapped his eyes back open – when had he closed them? – and turned his head to where the voices where coming from. Charles was running towards him, Porthos and Olivier slightly behind – leaning on each other for support.<br/>
He frowned. What had happened? He turned to Charles for answers, the boy apparently the most lucid ones of all of them.<br/>
The boy kneeled down beside him, examining his leg and then placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.<br/>
“He’s stuck.” Charles exclaimed over his shoulder. Porthos and Olivier hurried over as fast as possible, kneeling on the other side of René, who suddenly felt quite uncomfortable. Being so helpless and the 
centre of their attention at the same moment.<br/>
“I’ll lift it, you get him out of it.” Porthos then suddenly ordered, his hands grasping the pole. “Ready?” He asked.<br/>
René was suddenly gripped beneath his shoulders and then their were two more hands on his thigh.<br/>
On three, Porthos lifted the pole with a groal while Olivier and Charles pulled René away. The sniper screamed, as new much worse pain shot through his leg as it was moved. Then he gladly fell back into unconsciousness.</p><p> </p><p>mvmvmvmv</p><p>Wow, I reeally don't know where this drabble or idea came from but it really made fun writing.<br/>
Let me know what you thinnk of this first try of a Muskteers Agents AU!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 1.2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Following the events of chapter one, Treville is not amused.<br/>They're all in trouble.<br/>Charles is curious.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes! I'm back at it again.<br/>Sorry for the long pause. There had been so much going on at work and university that I didn't have the time to  write.<br/>I hope you're still following this story and enjoying it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Constance chewed on her bottom lip, her fingers wrangling with the hem of her shirt, as she followed Captain Treville through the corridors. Her shoes clicked with every fast step she took, in contrast to Treville who’s movements were almost soundless. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe, her chest and stomach constricting painfully. She had failed him.<br/>
Treville had put this team together, trusting Constance to have them under control. It was her job after all. And until today, she had never failed Treville before. She thought she would have had worse teams before but apparently she had been wrong. This was the first team she hadn’t had under control, she had totally misjudged them. She thought they would be professional enough to let their  differences be forgotten when they are on a mission – but she had been wrong. She wondered what Treville would say to her, later, when they were back at the office. Would he shout? Or would he punish her with silence? Oh, she hoped he would scream and shout, bang his hands on the table – she wasn’t sure if she could withstand the silent treatment. Maybe he would suspend her. Or transfer her to a different unit.<br/>
Constance had been so lost in her racing thoughts, that she hadn’t noticed that they had reached their destination. She almost ran into Treville as he stopped in front of the door.<br/>
“Shall I go in first, Sir?” She asked, gulping down the lumb in her throat. Treville did not even acknowledge her as he opened the door without knocking an entered, Constance always close by.<br/>
With a quit ‘click’ Constance closed the door behind her and stayed behind as Treville strode into the middle of the too whiteish room. Bright light shone through the big window, illuminating the two beds that were placed under it. Two chairs stood around a small table, not longer occupied by the two men who had sat on them seconds earlier. Olivier und Charles had sprung to their feet once the door had opened and revealed Treville. Their posture was formal, arms straight and close to their body, head held high.<br/>
Treville did not allow them to move as he normally did. Usually he was not a very formal man, but apparently he wanted to punish them a little. Constance watched her superior nervously as his gaze jumped to Charles for only a second, then over to Olivier, down to his bandaged arm. Treville’s eyes roamed further towards to the two beds.<br/>
Porthos had sat up hurriedly and was already trying to get to his feet too, but Treville only shook his head slighty, ordering him to stay put. On the other bed, René had tried to sit up as straight as possible with his left leg piled up high on pillows.<br/>
A few moments long, no one dared to speak or move, Constance even held her breath.<br/>
“What went wrong?” Was the first thing Treville asked since they had got the call that their new team was in the hospital.<br/>
Silence. The men did not look at each other, each one just stared a hole into the air, faces grimly set. </p><p>“I want a report. Now.” Treville then barked, impatiently.<br/>
Charles was the first one who broke their silence. “The profile’s had been wrong. They were much heavier armed than thought and almost seemed as if they had expected a fight.”</p><p>Treville frowned, eyes falling on Olivier. “Is that true?” </p><p>Olivier nodded slightly. “But it would have worked out, hadn’t it been for the explosion that almost got René killed. It was misplaced and too strong.”<br/>
“René would not have been in danger would he gave been on a closer spot. This way he could have helped us too, instead of just watching from a safe distance.” Porthos interjected.<br/>
“It was the only place from where I had both of you suicidal idiots in sight!” René argued, almost jumping to his feet hadn’t it been for his broken leg.</p><p>“Enough!” Treville barked, his eyes dangerously cold as he took in the sorry shape his men were in.<br/>
“I’ve put you together into a team because each one of you is the best of the best in his field. I don’t care if you like each other or hate each other, I expect you to be professional and at least TRUST each other. René is the best sniper of the unit, maybe of france, and he would not have chosen a place from where he could not protect you. And Olivier is the profiler with the highest clarification rate of the regiment. I haven’t heard of a better strategist and soldier than Porthos so far and Charles is the most skilled technician I know of. But all these damned skills won’t use you anything if you can’t combinate them. If you don’t work together. Once you’re back to duty, I will give you one more chance. Don’t disappoint me or I’ll send you all back to where I’ve got you from.” At the end of the last sentence Treville also shot a meaningful gaze towards Constance, who ducked her head. This failure of a mission was just as much her responsibility than the of the others.<br/>
Without further words, Treville left.<br/>
Constance stayed behind, all eyes falling onto her after the Captain was gone.<br/>
“I hope you’re taking his warning serious.” She muttered, eyes scanning their faces if they did or thought it was all a joke. She was glad to find them all looking a little ashamed. Good.<br/>
It was then that Constance remembered the purpose for her coming. She threw the black cotton bag she had draped over her shoulder onto the small table by the chairs.<br/>
“Fresh clothes for all of you. Toothbrushes, razors and chargers for Porthos, René and Olivier.” She explained.<br/>
“Thank you.” René smiled carefully. Olivier had by then already grabbed the bag and peaked inside it, surprise shining on his face. “Where did you get these clothes from?”</p><p>She shrugged. “Broke your lockers open?”<br/>
For a few seconds there was stunned silence before René started laughing. Soon, Charles and Porthos jumped on too. Even the lips of the almost so stoic Olivier twitched upwards a little bit.<br/>
“I’ve talked to the doctor. I expect you three back in the office in two weeks. Charles, you will come in normally on Monday. Oh, and I’ve called you a taxi to bring you home, while the others will have to stay here for a few more days.”</p><p>As there was nothing more to say and all important administrational things cleared, Constance turned around, ready to leave the room. The moment she grabbed for the door knob, she stopped, turning her head back to the four men. “Pull yourself together. You’re soldiers not children.”</p><p>MSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTS</p><p>A few weeks later…</p><p>It was the morning before the briefing for their next mission. The mission that could decide over their career. No, Charles tried to be aware that it was not the mission but they themselves who would decide it.<br/>
Charles and Constance were still alone in the office, the others always coming in a little bit later. The technician chewed on his lip as he typed on his computer before pausing. He opened his mouth and breathed in audible, ready to ask Constance the questions that were running through his head 24/7 but stopping himself from it a moment prior. He got back to typing only to stop it seconds later again. Before he could think how he would form the questions, Constance was already mustering him. </p><p>“What is it, Charles?”<br/>
He felt the heat rise in his cheeks, ashamed that he had been so obvious in his attempts. Then he glanced to the door, making sure that the others were not waiting in front of it. </p><p>“Back at the hospital, Treville had said he would send us back to where we came from if we messed up again. What does it mean? I mean, not for me. I know he can send me back to the IRCGN**, but what would it mean for the others?”</p><p>Constance frowned as she looked from her computer over to him. She had moved into their office before the others had been released from the hospital so Charles would not be alone in their all day. And she had yet to move back to her regular desk in the front office.<br/>
“You four have never talked about it? What you’ve done before this job?”</p><p>Charles shook his head, ashamed again. “We’ve never come so far.”</p><p>“You four will be the reason for me going insane, I swear it.” Constance groaned. “How are you supposed to trust each other as comrades when you don’t even know what the others are capable off?”</p><p>“You’re right… But, will you tell me?” Beside the shame there now was also curiosity in Charles’ gaze. </p><p>“I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But I think I can make an exception. As long as you promise to net tell anyone from it and to finally talk to the others.”<br/>
Charles nodded, a grin spreading on his lips as he lifted his little finger into the air. “Pinky promise.”</p><p>Constance huffed.<br/>
“Okay, let’s see what I am allowed to tell you.” She opened up the files of the three men, eyes scanning the data in it. She had started with Porthos. This was easy. At least the informations about his career – everything else, anything personal, was not up to debate.<br/>
“Porthos had been in the GIGN* before he came to the Musketeers. He’d come here almost around the same time as you did. In the GIGN he had worked his way up, was the leader of an own team.”<br/>
“And what would be so bad to go back there? If Treville used it as a warning? I mean, I know that the Musketeers are a bit cooler and better, but the GIGN? It’s not that bad at all.”</p><p>Constance sighed, not sure  of how much she could say. “You know, it’s not an easy life with the GIGN. Secret mission, undercover work, months away from home, decisions that could cost lifes…”</p><p>Charles frowned, trying to puzzle the information together. He wanted to ask for more information, but he noticed how reluctant Constance was to go into detail. Maybe this was something he would have to talk to Porthos personally about. If they would talk at all.<br/>
“And the others?” </p><p>Constance skipped to Olivier’s reports.<br/>
“Special Investigations Unit after he got a psychology degree at Oxford and graduated from the police school with the best grades. He had been with the Musketeers for over a year by now.”</p><p>“He had been in England? His parents had to be rich to pay for something like that… And René?”</p><p>Constance did not need to skip to the next file for that.  The day she had been assigned to their team she had already read their files.<br/>
“He had been with the Musketeers since he had left the army at 23.”</p><p>Charles arched his brows. “And?”</p><p>Constance bit her lip, unsure. “And there is nothing more in his files. Everything else had been sealed with the highest security. Only Treville and Louis Bourbon can open them.”</p><p>There was a dangerous light lighting up in Charles eyes. “Nothing is every truly secure.”</p><p>Constance gasped, eyes opening wide. “No. No you’re not even thinking about hacking into the MSCTS’ system, Charles!”<br/>
The technician laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I won’t.”</p><p> </p><p>**IRCGN = Institut de recherche criminelle de la gendarmerie nationale = institute for forensic science<br/>
** GIGN = Groupe d'intervention de la Gendarmerie nationale  = elite police tactical unit of the French National Gendarmerie</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Part 2.2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>So this one takes part a little while after the first two chapters and will get a follow up sometime soon.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been months since their first mission and things were going surprisingly good for them. Constance was quiet proud of what she had made of the team. She’d forced them to talk once in a while, go out and eat together one or two times and now they seemed to be a quiet effective team. They weren’t friends yet, but comrades who had their backs and new what the man on their left and right were thinking or doing.<br/>
They hadn’t failed a singled mission since they’ve come closer and no more grave mistakes had been made. Constance liked to think that it was all her doing, but deep down she knew that also Treville has had his hands in the game. She didn’t mind though. Work had gotten far more pleasantly since the Team didn’t act like children anymore.<br/>
Of course, there were still fights that she could listen to from her desk. But mostly it was nothing too worryingly. Rene complaining over Charles untidiness, Olivier throwing something at Porthos to finally shut him up, Charles whining how incapable they all were at using technic, Porthos calling them ‘boring sissys’… But Constance welcomed this with open arms as long as they worked with each other well and did their job. And that, they did.<br/>
These months of working well together, without further incidents, was what made it even more striking that Rene hadn’t arrived in the office yet, nor had he called or send a message to anyone. It was almost midday and he hadn’t answered to any of Constance’s calls, neither to the ones of his comrades.<br/>
Besides the worry – and slight anger, that he hadn’t arrived yet- Constance felt oddly warm around the heart as she gazed into the office of the agents and saw all three agents discussing and worrying openly over Renes whereabouts. Constance had already told Treville, but he only waved her away, saying that they should not worry over Rene too much, that he would be just fine. Nevertheless, as it got lunch time, Porthos, Olivier and Charles decided to go to Renes flat and search him. His apartment wasn’t far away from the Garrison and so they walked over to it in mere minutes.<br/>
“You know, I just could have hacked his phone. We would have had pictures and sound of what’s happening in seconds.” Charles suggested for what had to be the fifth time this day.<br/>
Again and quiet annoyed, Olivier and Porthos answered with a simultaneous “No!”<br/>
Charles shrugged. “Only a suggestion.”<br/>
They reached the apartment complex the same moment and Porthos rung the bell. They waited a few seconds, before ringing the bell again. Porthos gave it a third try after thirty seconds before he sighed in frustration.<br/>
“Maybe he isn’t at home.” Porthos shrugged, but Olivier shook his head as he look upwards to where Renes windows were seen.<br/>
“The shutters are down but there’s light shining through. And his car is parked right over there.” He nodded towards the old mustang, Renes love of his life.<br/>
Charles tried again to call Rene, but no answer came.<br/>
Porthos, growing even more frustrated as he noticed that Rene was ignoring them by purpose, pushed the button of several other bells. It only took seconds before the door buzzed open and the three of them stormed into the hallway. They climbed the stairs, two at a time. In front of Renes apartment they stopped, giving him one last chance to open the door for them, Olivier knocked loudly against the wood. </p><p>“Rene! It’s us!” He tried two times before Porthos nudged him aside gently.<br/>
“I want to know what’s going on. If he’s sick he could have at least sent a message. Maybe something’s happened to him.”<br/>
Neither Olivier nor Charles stopped Porthos from ramming his shoulder against the door two, three, four times until it budged under his weight and broke open.<br/>
“Rene?!” Porthos asked as he stepped through the broken door, inspecting the room. It was as clean and neat as Renes desk. As they had already seen, the shutters were closed and the curtains drawn close, but the light was on.<br/>
Charles and Olivier stepped into the flat behind Porthos, slowly walking forwards, searching for something that wasn’t right. But in the pathological order that Rene kept his things, something messy would stick out immediately. The books in the shelves were still sorted by colour and height, the shoes stood neatly side by side, not a single pair missing. The mirror in the bathroom was stainless, the towels folded and also sorted by colour. The shampoos stood in alphabetical order in a small shelve. The adjacent doors to the hall were closed, not one standing open even a little bit. It was the door at the end that got their attention. As the lights in the bathroom and kitchen had been off, there was light still shining through the gap beneath the door.<br/>
Olivier nodded towards it before he walked slowly, calling Rene’s name again.<br/>
As, as expected, no answer came, Athos opened the door slowly and made room for the others to come in too. Their hands twitched towards their guns  as they noticed a figure on the bed, but immediately stopped as they recognized it as Rene.<br/>
The man was curled onto his side, shaking badly even though he laid under what seemed to be three covers. He had his back to them and didn’t seem to have noticed them yet, eyes closed tightly as his hands grabbed on the blanket tightly. His hair was a sweaty mess, dangling into his face as ragged breaths left his body.<br/>
“Rene?” Porthos asked, softer this time, worry replacing the annoyance as he walked closer to the bed.<br/>
Neither of them had ever seen Rene like… this. He muttered something, but it didn’t sound French and wasn’t directed at them either. It was to quiet to understand anyway.<br/>
“Hey Rene, it’s us.” Not knowing in what weird state of mind Rene was, or if he was just very very sick, Porthos came closer carefully until he could sit down at the end of the bed. While Olivier stayed by the door, inspecting the scene with psychological interest, Charles vanished in the hallway, searching for anything that could help them with this situation.<br/>
Carefully, Porthos laid a hand on Rene’s arm, shaking it slightly. The touch had an immediate effect, causing Rene to sit up straight as if he had been struck by lighting and to crawl towards the other side of the bed, back pressed against the wall as his breath hitched. He’d drawn his legs towards his body, hands supporting his head.<br/>
“Rene! It’s us.” Porthos explained, hands raised to show that he meant no harm. But Rene did not react. Instead he buried his head in his palms and started muttering again, hands shaking badly as his fingers clawed at his hair.<br/>
Again, Porthos tried to reach for him, to calm him, but Olivier held up his hand.<br/>
“No, stop.” Frowning, Porthos turned to Olivier.<br/>
“I think he’s not here right now, a Flashback or something similar. He could hurt you or himself if he gets startled to much.”</p><p>“And how are we supposed to get him out of this, then?” Porthos asked. Instead of answering, Olivier walked over to the curtains and opened them, flooding the dimly lit room with light. He then opened the window, letting cold air rush in. He was just about to walk towards the record player, as Charles came back into the room, holding up few boxes of  pills.<br/>
“I’ve googled them. Pills against Anxiety-Disorders, Sleeping-Pills and Painkillers. He’d one of these dosage boxes in the bathroom, the pink pills-“ Charles glanced at a note he had scribbled on his palm “the ones against Anxiety were still in it from the last three days.”</p><p>Olivier frowned and strode over to Charles as he took in the different labels of the pills shortly. He then glanced over to Rene who hadn’t changed his behaviour yet.<br/>
“If he really does need this pills and hadn’t taken them, we need to make him take them.”<br/>
He poured one of the pink pills in his palm, inspecting it for a moment before nodding satisfied. “It’s the best we can try.”</p><p>“Charles, could you crumble the pill and dissolve it in water? It think it’s the easiest way to get him to take it. Even when he’s so far away, the natural instinct to drink is probably still intact.”<br/>
Charles nodded and hurried into the kitchen only to come back with a glass of water a minute later. He gave it to Oliver, trusting him that he knew what he was doing. Having mostly theoretical knowledge about psychology, Olivier still felt nervous as he walked over to were Rene cowered. He gently nudged the glass against Rene’s lips and dipped it until the water slowly ran towards Rene’s lips. They were lucky. Rene drunk without complaint.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed, I'm always happy over reviews and Kudos!</p><p>If you hadn't enough of Musketeer-Agent AU's you can also read the second chapter of my work "Collection of Content."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Part 2.2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An hour after they’ve gotten Rene to drink the water with pill mixed in it, he had fallen into a fit full sleep, the medicine taking affect. While leaving the door to the bedroom open, the others had gathered in the living room, waiting. They’ve called Constance and explained the situation to her. She had been quiet worried and ready to come over as well, but they had persuaded her to stay in the Garrison to work on the mission and explain everything to Treville.<br/>
As it had been their lunch break in which they had went over to Renes’ none of them had eaten anything since morning and they were all almost starving. So, while Rene still rested, they had something delivered and eaten. While Porthos and Charles then cleaned the dishes and made sure to keep everything as tidy and neat as Rene liked it, Olivier looked deeper into the marksman’s shelves and found several different pills and old receipts. He felt bad for invading the man’s personal space that much, but they needed to know what was currently happening to him and how to deal with.<br/>
From Rene’s earlier behaviour and the stockings of his pills Olivier got a vague idea of what it was. He guessed that the marksman dealt with some kind of trauma and to be able to deal with it, he needed stress killing pills. He obviously also had some trouble sleeping and some unknown pains, that forced him to take sleeping draughts and painkillers. Once he was up to it, Olivier wanted to speak to him about all of this. When they were supposed to work together, they needed to know things like these about each other. Especially when it affected their work that much like now. They needed to be prepared when and if Rene got attacks like this on a regular basis.<br/>
Olivier also wondered if maybe his pathological urge to keep everything clean and tidy had something to do with his trauma. At first he had thought, that Rene just really liked it clean, but reflecting it now, there seemed to be more behind it than thought. Maybe it had something to do with the sealed files in Rene’s record from which Charles had talked during lunch.<br/>
MSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTS</p><p>As the sun started to set and they would have all already left the Garrison and headed home, Rene slowly roused. He awoke to a familiar sluggish feeling, his head heavy, but not pounding. He pushed the blanket away, confused as his limbs only cooperated slowly. He knew these kind of symptoms but he could not explain why he had them now. He hadn’t taken his pills for days, so they should not affect him anymore.<br/>
As he heard muffled voices, Rene stilled in his movements, feet hovering the floor as he strained his ears. Meanwhile his hands twitched towards his nightstand in which he always kept a knife. He cursed himself for locking his gun, like the good little Agent he was, safely into it’s safe. The safe may was in his bedroom, but there was no way he could walk over it, open the safe and walk into the living room, where the voices came from, without being heard.<br/>
So he slowly opened the drawer in the nightstand, careful to not make any sounds and grabbed his knife. He left the drawer open, not wanting to cause any unnecessary sounds, even though his skin itched with the feeling that it still stood open as he put his feet on the ground and stood up. He tightened his fingers around the hilt and tried to swallow down the urge to close the drawer as his naked feet moved silently on the wooden floor.<br/>
He couldn’t make out what the voices where saying, neither how many there were. It were male voices, more than two, that much he could tell. He wondered who it could be. If they were simple burglars he could fight them off easily, but if they were here for some other kind of business, he could get into some serious problems. Nevertheless he decided to attack first instead of waiting for them to notice that he had woken up.<br/>
He held the knife ready as he came closer to the living room door, his breath shallow, like when he was preparing for a shot. The door stood slightly ajar, making his fingertips tingle with the need to either open it completely or close it tightly. Once again, he supressed this urge and glanced through the gap.<br/>
He recognized the three men immediately, his heart slowing down a little as he noticed that he was in no immediate danger. Nevertheless he did not lay his knife down as he stepped in the room, watching as Olivier and Charles turned from where they sat with their backs initially turned to him. Porthos looked up form his phone as he noticed Rene standing in the door, smiling gently.<br/>
“You’re awake.”</p><p>Rene furrowed his brow and nodded slightly. "Well recognized, genius. What are you doing here? Did you broke into my flat?”<br/>
Charles shrugged and nodded. “You didn’t come to work and haven’t left a message either.”<br/>
Rene tried to think back to the morning, a glance to the clock on the opposite wall telling him that it was already evening. He couldn’t quite puzzle the pieces together. Why had he just gotten up? What day was it? Thursday?<br/>
Noticing how at loss the marksman was, Porthos jumped in.<br/>
“You’ve been in some … weird state as we arrived around noon. We’ve found these pills and gave you one. You’ve slept since then.”<br/>
Slowly, Rene understood and sighed. He gently laid the knife down on the next shelve, even though he truly wanted to bring it back into the nightstand where it belonged. He closed the door tightly and took the empty seat beside Porthos.<br/>
Placing his heavy head in his hands, he massaged his scalp through his long hair.<br/>
“Sorry. I should have sent you a message in the morning. But I – I don’t quite remember, but I think I hadn’t been in any state to send one.” They nodded in understanding.<br/>
“Does something like this happens often? These… attacks?”</p><p>Rene bit on his lip. He did not really like to talk about this. He already hated to talk with his psychologist about it, which was the reason that he had missed the last three appointments. The more he hated to talk about this to outsiders. He knew that they had some kind of right to know at least the basics, but he wished he hadn’t to go through all of this again and again.<br/>
“Not so often anymore.” He whispered, voice hoarse as he finally noticed how thirsty he was. Olivier handed him a glass and filled it with water from the bottle that stood in the middle of the table.<br/>
“Thanks.” Rene muttered and gulped down the content before returning his gaze to his fingers, that laid flatly on the table.<br/>
“I wanted to be clear and awake for the mission. I can’t take these long shots when I take… take my medicine.”</p><p>“You you’ve stopped taking the pills?” Olivier raised his brows as Rene nodded.<br/>
“I do this sometimes before missions. So I can work properly. But sometimes, sometimes I still get these flashbacks. I-“ He shuddered as pieces of the memories rushed through his mind, almost to much to comprehend. “Sometimes I get lost in them. And apparently this was the case this morning, though I don’t remember much of it.”<br/>
Having the urge to comfort his comrade somehow, Porthos places a gentle hand on Rene’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You know, this is nothing uncommon for soldiers. Nor do we judge you for it.”</p><p>Rene nodded slowly, but still not looking up. </p><p>A few moments no one dared to make a single sound, until Charles could not hold back any longer. Curiosity and innocence taking over.<br/>
“What happened?”<br/>
Rene closed his eyes briefly. He’d know that this question would come, still he had hoped it wouldn’t.<br/>
“I’m not allowed to tell you everything.” He started and his fingers wrapped around the now empty glass, searching for something to hold on. “It had been a few years ago. A mission in Iraq with my former unit. We were only supposed to be lookouts. It was a relatively calm area and we did not expect serious problems. Of course we still had guards on duty, but …. I had all been planned. They’ve come at night, a small army. Most men of our unit were freshly baked soldiers. The guards had been taken out silently, and most of us had still been asleep… We…. We did not stand a chance. They…” Rene’s whole body shuddered as he tried to even out his breath. Tears were prickling in his eyes but he did not allow them to fall. “They’re all dead. The whole unit, gone.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all for your lovely reviews!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Part 3.1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Only one time!” René shook his head in exasperation as he put his sniper riffle into it’s bag. “Is it too much to ask that you tidy up when you’ve left the armoury?” </p><p>Charles stood in the doorway as he snorted, his arms crossed above his chest while his packed bag hung loosely over his shoulder. After learning about René’s background story and knowing where his ticks came from, they’d all tried to not stress him too much and did not argue with him about his very strict view of tidiness. But sometimes Charles could not help himself but find it amusing.<br/>
Olivier and Porthos were already outside, waiting in the van for them to follow. Charles had packed his things minutes ago and was now watching René rummaging through the armoury, cursing and putting things back to their rightful places. Sometimes it were only mere millimetres, but René could not stop himself from putting it right. He was even more neatly than usual, which Charles justified with the nervousness of the sniper. The mission was important but they hadn’t allowed him to stop taking his pills this time. Therefor, René was not sure if he could make the shot – even though they knew he could. </p><p>“René we have to go now.” Charles sighed. He really tried to give René the time he needed, but the clock was ticking.</p><p>“I would have been on time would you have just cleaned up properly.”<br/>
He muttered. But he knew as well as Charles that he really needed to hurry up, so he packed his bag and strode of the room, trying to forget about the pistols that still laid all over the table. </p><p>In the meanwhile, Olivier had briefed Porthos about their targets more specifically. Unfortunately the MSCTS had only gotten some basic information about them as the targets mostly worked with code names. There hadn’t been and photos of them so they had to work with descriptions of witnesses and old case files.</p><p>“The man, so called Rochefort, has to be taken alive. He’s the one in charge and has probably some quiet valuable information. Even though he doesn’t dirty his hands often, he still can be quit dangerous. Stay aware for dirty tricks. His right hand, the woman, is called Milday de Winter. It would be good to take her alive but she is probably the most dangerous one of them. René will keep her in sight. Our highest priority has to stop all of them and get to the plans. Rochefort has probably a small army gathered in his hide out. Keep that in mind.”</p><p>“I’ve got one question.” Porthos turned to Olivier who waved his hand in him in a gesture to ‘go on’ with his question. </p><p>“Milady de Winter is a stupid code name. Why not take a cool one if you’ve got the choice?” </p><p>A grin spread at Porthos’ face as he watched Olivier’s going from confused to a small, barely noticeable, smile.<br/>
“Concentration, Porthos. This I important.” Olivier chided, even though Porthos could hear the amusement in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>MSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTSMSCTS</p><p> </p><p>Charles grabbed the can of energy drink and poured the last bit of it down, his leg bouncing up and down as he stared at the screens in front of him in deep concentration. His fingers flew over the keyboard, while his eyes scanned the multiple codes.<br/>
The rustling in his ears told him that one of his comrades had just opened their mic and only a second later the familiar voice of Olivier came up.</p><p>“How much time do you need, Charles?”</p><p>“Twenty minutes.” Charles answered shortly before returning his attention back to the decoding of the security software. He sat in the neighbouring house to the one where Rochefort and Milady were probably hiding. He was just close enough to get into their network easily and search for the plans.<br/>
There was another rustling, before René murmured into his microphone.</p><p>“Two men heading towards their server room. About 30 seconds till notice.”</p><p>“Got ‘em.” Porthos answered drily. </p><p>He had climbed through the window earlier, waiting in the corner behind the door for anyone who dared to disturb their plan. René watched how the two criminals opened the door towards the office and stepped in. Once the first one was in Porthos’ reach, he put him in a headlock and with his foot his closed the door shut. René tried to keep the other one in view, but the three men moved too much while fighting. He could not shoot without the danger of harming Porthos so he could only hope that the tall man managed it on his own.</p><p>René sighed in relief as Porthos managed to choke the first man unconscious without disturbing the others in the building. Unfortunately, the second man had enough time to pull out a gun. One shot and everything they’ve worked for in the previous weeks was for nothing. An alarm would be ringed and their computers taken of the net. Porthos and Olivier would be found, maybe even Charles.<br/>
Gladly, Porthos was the best one-to-one fighter, René knew. He watched his comrade pull out a knife, not daring to also take his gun. With a flick of his wrist, blood splashed against the wall behind his opponent and the criminal sank to the floor. Porthos caught him before he cut hit the ground with a sound and guided him down as silently as possible. Next he bound the second man up and put a gag into his mouth. He dragged both men towards the desks and hid them underneath them, so they wouldn’t be seen directly when someone else entered the room.</p><p>René let out a breath he did not know he had held in.</p><p>“Threat eliminated.” He updated Olivier and Charles and grinned at the thumb up that Porthos send his way through the window.</p><p>“Won’t be long till someone notices that they’re gone.”  Olivier whispered from where he was hidden in a storage room. He’d climbed up a few boxes and now was able to see through a shaft into the biggest room of the building. There were several desks with tubes, different glasses full of powder and other chemicals, as well as a corner with a well-ordered locker with weapons. There was a coming and going in the room, but there wasn’t a sign of Rochefort and Milady yet. Even though they did not have an image of any of them, Olivier was sure that he would recognize them once he saw them.<br/>
Both of them would radiate authority as well as cruelty coming from a lack of empathy. It wouldn’t be hard to detect this in a face once he saw it. </p><p>“A man and a woman enter the building. Obviously have something to say. Targets confirmed.” René said as he watched how the two had gotten out of the car. Their bags were carried from some henchmen. The woman was dressed a little bit too elegantly for such dirty work, René thought. After all she was the one that did the dirty work and it would have been pity if the knee-long black dress she wore would get blood stains. </p><p>Olivier now watched the entrance more intently, nodding to himself as he saw the man entering. The blond, middle-aged man, with a gruff mimic arrogant body language was indeed Rochefort. Following him closely was the sound of high-heels clanking on the floor. Not short after the image of a beautiful, elegant dressed woman came into view, taking away Olivier’s breath. Not because of her beauty, no. But because he knew the face, knew the way she carried her self arrogantly through the room, head held high and a smug grin at her red lips. </p><p>“Anne.” Olivier breathed, forgetting that his microphone was still on.</p><p>“Please repeat.” Porthos answered, a frown on his face as he could not work out what Olivier wanted to tell them.<br/>
“Nothing. Not important.” Olivier hushed and was glad that the others were professional enough to not ask further questions – yet.<br/>
He watched with a sickening feeling as Rochefort and Anne – Milady -, walked towards  a large map that was plastered on the wall. Milady took a rep marker at made a big ‘X’ almost into the central of the map. Olivier was too far away to recognize what she had marked but at least he was able to listen to what they said.</p><p>“All preparations are made. We can start on time. Where are the plans?” Anne asked and looked through the room. As several men just shrugged and looked around aimlessly, her face contorted into an angry mask. </p><p>“Someone get them! Idiots.”</p><p>Two men hurried out of the room and up the stairs.</p><p>“Porthos, two more are coming. Charles, hurry up. They will soon notice that something’s wrong.” Olivier whispered.</p><p>“I can’t just ‘hurry up’,” Charles hissed in return. He was working as fast as he could but the network was secured safely and something’s needed their time.</p><p>Meanwhile Olivier watched Rochefort and Anne get more annoyed with each minute passing. Porthos had managed to take out the next two men as well, arranging them with the others under the desk. ‘Slowly getting crowded in here’ he muttered to himself.</p><p>After three minutes of waiting, Rochefort had enough.</p><p>“What is taking them so long?! Get the plans here! NOW!”</p>
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